


Sometimes a Lemon Is just a Lemon; Sometimes It's Not

by Annehiggins



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on <i>The Pegasus Project</i> ep of SG1 so yep, it's yet another lemon story! Does contain some dialog from the episode. Posted to Live Journal July 31, 2006 -- shortly after the ep first aired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes a Lemon Is just a Lemon; Sometimes It's Not

**Author's Note:**

> So my take on the ep was not John being horrifically insensitive to Rodney's weaknesses or him endangering him. In the buddy-relationship world of the show, it was some sort of joke between them and that's probably the end of it. But I write slash, so I decided to give it a deeper meaning than that. BTW, for the record I LIKE Mitchell, but I did think either the script or the actor decided to have him be fairly hostile toward Rodney. Further, the more I watched the ep in the course of writing this the more I thought Mitchell and Carter were WAY out of line in how they treated Rodney and I can't come up with some cute behind the scenes story to reconcile their behavior, so John will have to deal with them.
> 
> See end note for my take on the citrus allergy.

  
**Sometimes a Lemon Is just a Lemon; Sometimes It's Not**  
By Anne Higgins

The morning sun spilled through the window and woke John Sheppard. A normal enough occurrence, but finding himself alone in bed bordered on unusual – at least when there was no the-end-is-near crisis threatening Atlantis – and it made him frown. While not the most romantic of men, he had been firm on the point that being in a relationship meant going to bed and waking up together. Rodney McKay always snorted at that point and said something or other about John being a cuddler which the military man in John hotly denied and it was unfair of Rodney to make fun of how cold John got at night and his need for shared body heat. Pure survival tactics. Nothing more. That was his story and he was sticking to it.

Somewhere during the argument Rodney always laughed, but he also tended to share the aforementioned body heat so it all worked out fine as far as John was concerned. Except here he was waking up alone on a morning when neither of them had early appointments – the perfect opportunity for prolonged body-heat sharing, not to mention body-heat generating activities. So where the hell was McKay?

John knew there were a handful of possible answers to that question so with a sigh, he abandoned his comfy, but woefully empty bed, and hit the bathroom. A shared-shower had definitely been on his agenda this morning so he scowled as he stepped into the water stream alone. He should have seen this coming. Rodney had been acting strangely since Stargate Command had informed them that SG1 was headed for Atlantis. Although John knew it wasn't SG1 as a whole that had Rodney all keyed-up. Only one member of the group could make Rodney go nuts – Lt. Col. Samantha Carter.

John had never met Rodney's former colleague, but he could honestly say the woman was one of his least favorite people. While Rodney had assured him – repeatedly – that it had been lust at first sight when he saw John sitting in the chair in Antarctica, John knew all too well that Rodney had experienced more than a fleeting moment of regret at leaving Earth and his fantasies about a future with Carter behind. Then there was the whole hallucination-on-the-bottom-of-the-sea thing. Yeah, John got that Rodney's injured brain conjuring up Carter had been a survival tactic and she'd filled a science advisor role no hallucination of John could hope to, but damnit! To say it stung to find out Rodney had spent what he'd thought would be the last few hours of his life thinking of someone else was like saying a Wraith's touch made you itch. Understatement. Of. The. Century.

But hey, John could do understanding spouse. He really could. Even in the absence of a wedding ring – a guy could only push the don't ask/don't tell thing so far even if no one with a prejudiced bone in his or her body got near a stargate, let alone through one. It was the thought that counted and after all he and Rodney had been through John's thoughts were of a pure 'til-death-do-us-part nature. All of which meant he had to get out of his nice warm shower, pull on his uniform, then track down the aggravating love of his life to talk to him about Rodney's favorite fantasy girl. His life sucked. It really did.

John considered calling Rodney on the radio, but the man thought he wanted to brood alone so he guessed the idiot wouldn't answer, so he'd have to do this the hard way. A quick check with Zelenka eliminated the labs, while Ronan happened to be eating breakfast which let John cross the mess of his list. That left the Brooding Balcony.

Rodney had gone to their having-a-meltdown-thank-you-very-much spot to think about that woman. John was going to kill him. He really was. Except when he stalked out onto the balcony and caught sight of the bastard all slumped-shouldered and lost, his outrage evaporated. His mind did a fast pass through the relationship 101 handbook and he moved to stand behind Rodney.

"Hey," he whispered, sliding his arms around Rodney's waist and giving his neck a good-morning nuzzle.

Rodney sighed heavily and leaned back against him, his hands coming up to rest over John's, but he didn't say anything. Not good. Nothing good ever came from a silent Rodney.

John's stomach twisted a little at the idea Carter could upset Rodney so deeply, but he reminded himself this moment was about Rodney and he could have his own meltdown later. "So you want to tell me what's bugging you or do I have to guess?" he asked, praying Rodney wouldn't make him say it because John _knew_ Rodney loved him best, but sometimes he worried Rodney merely loved him best of those who had opted to make their home on Atlantis, and he always felt like a needy fool when he made Rodney tell him he was an idiot. And how weird had his life gotten that being called an idiot was comforting?

"Samantha Carter will be here in a few hours."

Okay, not what he'd wanted to hear even if it did confirm his suspicions. It rattled John enough he didn't know how to translate the mixture of excitement and dread in Rodney's voice. John swallowed hard and told himself that Rodney wasn't about to tell him it had been fun, but hey, the first string was about to arrive so John should start looking for new quarters. "She that important?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

Rodney didn't answer for a moment, then he turned in John's arms and gave him the infamous, but oh, so welcome, 'you are such an idiot, but I love you anyway' smile, then kissed him. A light, reassuring touch of lips – not a passionate one – but it made John's blood race all the same. Rodney loved _him_ and take that Carter!

Both comforted and chastised John could allow curiosity to rise to the forefront and asked, "So what about her is the problem?"

Rodney turned back around to look out at the ocean and sighed again. "I … don't like who I am when I'm around her."

Okay, this was new. "And who is that?"

"Like I was when we first came here," he said, then added in a softer voice, "with a lot of what you saw on Doranda thrown in."

John tightened his hold on Rodney at the mention of the Planet We Will Never Speak of Again. Neither of them had been at their best during that fiasco and it had been the closest they'd ever come to breaking up even their friendship. He cleared his throat, then ventured into stormy skies. "And that would be … too obsessed on a problem?"

"More like too obsessed with the need to be right." Rodney shook his head. "She brings out the worst in me, John." A single bark of laughter underscored his words. "I get focused on proving I'm right and she's wrong and lose sight of the problem. Except she's always right and I'm always wrong. Which makes no sense because I have the higher IQ, but she's so damned wise. And lucky. The woman rivals you in the pure dumb luck department and-"

"Rodney!" John cut off the torrent of words. "Breathe."

"What? Oh, yeah," he muttered and took a few deep breaths to calm down. He turned around, then leaned back against the railing and gave John a rueful smile. "Guess I can't even talk about it without becoming some sort of cheap comic-relief to her super genius."

"Hey," John said, giving Rodney's shoulder a gentle shake, "no insulting my geek."

A smile twitched at the corner of Rodney's mouth. "Your geek?"

"Damn right," John said, brushing his lips against that irresistible twitch. "My sexy, genius of a geek, who I might add is in a class all on his own in both categories. Makes you one of the heroes of this little drama we've got going on. Not the comic-relief."

"I suppose you're the other hero."

"That and the sexy babe – I'm flexible enough to handle both roles."

"Idiot," Rodney murmured, the fond smile flashing just before he kissed John. A deeper, slower kiss than before, but it didn't last nearly long enough before Rodney pulled back.

 

John frowned, first at the brevity of his reward for being a supportive lover, then because there was a look in Rodney's eye he'd learned not to like. It meant the man was trying to avoid saying something and the something never turned out to be a good thing. "This is more than freak-out over seeing her again, isn't it?"

"She sent me the data on her plan."

"It any good?"

"Odds are a little better than 50-50 that it will succeed."

Wow, they never got odds that good in this galaxy. "So what's the problem?"

"Odds are even higher that they'll need me to work on refining the calculations in the field."

"So she asked you to come along?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "No, she sent the data ahead so I'd be prepared to whine, plead and otherwise demand to come along so she wouldn't need to ask."

Guess it did take two to run a competition. "You could make her ask."

"Oh, yes, because I'm so good at keeping my mouth shut when things get interesting," he said with a look that clearly asked John who he had been sleeping with for the last year because it couldn't have been Rodney.

"Right. My mistake. Maybe I could try and help you keep quiet?"

Another eye roll. John swore that Rodney must have the strongest eye muscles in the universe. "Because you're always so successful at that."

"It's worth a try," he pouted.

"Oh, no, no, no. You don't get to sulk. You have to come up with a plan that works!"

Damn, this supportive bit sucked. Okay, so he probably couldn't keep Rodney from groveling his way onto the mission, but maybe he could help with the mission itself. "I could come along? Keep you focused?" he suggested, neither pleased with the idea of Rodney going off-world without him or going with him. John's presence would seem like a no-vote of confidence in SG1's current leader, Cameron Mitchell, and that wasn't the best way to get things done. Not to mention that between himself, Mitchell and Carter the ship would be so lousy with lieutenant colonels that the captain might be tempted to hold a fire sale.

Rodney snorted. "Oh, right, that'll help, because you'd never do anything like oh, I don't know, maybe start competing with her yourself?"

Okay, so he had issues with her and maybe an Azgard cruiser wasn't big enough to contain them, but, "Damnit, how am I supposed to help if I stay behind?"

Rodney gave him a gentle pat on the cheek, smirked at him, then said, "I'm sure you'll think of something."

John might have shot him then and there, but the sparkle was back in Rodney's eyes and he almost had a bounce in his step as he headed back inside. It was all a highly aggravating, purely McKay way of telling him that Rodney trusted him. Now all John had to do was prove he was worthy of the trust. Damn, why did he get all the rotten jobs?

*

John came up with the perfect plan all of two minutes before it was time to file into the conference room for a briefing with SG1. He had to run to get what he needed before things got started, but, when he got to the meeting, he was pleased to discover that he didn't have to do any special maneuvering to sit in Rodney's line of sight.

He did hope it would help, but Rodney had called it earlier. The man could not shut up and not even threatening to shoot him worked for more than a few seconds. Of course he'd much rather have shot Carter and her new CO, Mitchell. Neither John nor Elizabeth Weir knew the details of SG1's little plan, but every time Rodney tried to explain things, Carter and Mitchell cut him off, treating Rodney like he was some sort of tedious, babbling fool who had to be endured. And okay, Rodney did go off on a couple of tangents, but it's what Rodney did for fuck's sake! How could they want his help, but make such a production out of not needing his input?

Yeah, John's trigger finger itched and he made a mental note to insist Mitchell, and if he got really lucky Carter, too, get in a stick fighting lesson with Teyla or a sparring session with Ronon. The very thought warmed John's bones. He even managed to not start shouting at their guests when the inevitable happened and Rodney did indeed all but beg to go along.

"You may need me," Rodney said.

Vala chuckled. "Col. Carter said as much." Okay, she got to skip the stick fighting lesson.

"Ooo, we weren't going to tell him that," Carter responded and John decided she got to work out with Telya _and_ Ronon.

Elizabeth glanced at John and asked, "John, do you think you can spare Rodney from your team?"

Not liking the tone of her voice, John considered whether or not she might benefit from a little time with Teyla, too, then turned his attention back to the problem at hand. He looked at Mitchell and said, "Hell, you can keep him." It was all laid back and in the spirit of 'let's all pick on Rodney,' but from one flyboy to another it was a loud and clear 'bring him back in mint condition or come back in a body bag yourself.'

Mitchell acknowledged he got the message with an equally cryptic, "Nice."

*

Rodney left the meeting wanting to scream. Five minutes. It had taken less than five minutes for SG1 to reduce him to a flustered, babbling court jester. At least John had backed him up when he'd insisted none of his minions could be spared to attend the briefing even though Rodney knew Zelenka had wanted to come. He'd have died on the spot if anyone who worked for him had seen him like this.

He rounded a corner in time to see John toss Mitchell something small and yellow, then take off after giving the man a hearty clap on the arm. That was John's plan? Rodney was not only unimpressed, he was going to have to kill John. Pity he'd have to wait until he got back from the mission.

Mitchell had spotted him, so he chuckled, trying to sound like he appreciated the joke, but knowing he sounded painfully awkward. "Ah, that's a good one," he said coming down the stairs. "We're actually … we're quite close."

"You packed your bags?" Mitchell asked.

If he hadn't taken something close to an instant dislike of the man, Rodney might have hugged him for giving him the perfect excuse to get away from SG1 and go after John. He hurried off and within minutes entered their quarters to find John zipping up Rodney's over-night bag.

Thoughtful, but not enough to let him off the hook. Rodney crossed his arms and glared at his lover. "You gave him the Lemon of Doom? That's your plan to save me from terminal embarrassment and the galaxy from ruin?"

John smiled and nodded happily. "It's brilliant, isn't it?"

"Hmm, let me think. Ah, no, brilliant isn't one of the words that comes to mind."

His scathing taunt made John's eyes dance with amusement. Totally not what Rodney was going for. But he looked cute with his eyes shining like that and Rodney didn't mind the strong arms going around his waist either.

"I promise it's perfect," John said, giving Rodney's ear a playful nip. "I've set Mitchell up so when things get really tense he's going to yank out the thing."

"Am I supposed to shriek like a girl and run in terror?"

"No, you're supposed to do what you always do when you see it."

"Think of the juvenile delinquent who had it made for me?" Not to mention wince about how much John had paid to get his hands on a restaurant-quality fake lemon. Damned thing even felt real, but Rodney would swear an entire lemon grove would have been a cheaper investment. "And how you'll pay for this?"

It was meant to point out how ridiculous the whole thing was, but John bounced, bounced, for Christ's sake, and nodded. "Think of me, focus on solving the problem, then get back here so you can wreck havoc with the temperature of my showers."

"That is so… so …" His mind fairly froze in the efforts to come up with a word strong enough to convey the depths of John's lunacy, but all he could think of was the manic joy in John's eyes when he'd produced the Lemon of Doom for the first time then had chased Rodney around a few deserted halls with yellow plastic held high like a live grenade. Or the time he'd rolled over for his morning kiss to find the stupid thing on the pillow between them. Or the million times he'd opened his pack to find it nestled inside. Or … "Huh. It might work."

John grinned, then demanded Rodney use every second of his allotted packing minutes to reward him for his cleverness.

*

John sent Rodney off to board the ship with a few whispered words about taking care of himself and playing nice with others. And oh, yeah, John was crazy in love with him so he'd better come back in one piece.

Rodney smiled, called him and idiot, then gave him a scorching kiss goodbye. "I love you, too," he said and, wait for it, "Don't pick up any alien priestesses while I'm gone."

"I'll try to restrain myself," him said, rolling his eyes, then Rodney was gone.

He sighed and settled in for a day or two of boring duties and intense worrying.

*

Rodney's presence on the _Odyssey_ seemed as welcome as a cold germ and about as useful. Sam's calculations were sound, as he'd expected, so he'd only done some minor tweaking to justify his existence. Beyond that she argued against his advice, leaving him floundering from one awkward conversation to another.

At least he did get the opportunity to thank her for helping him out when he'd been trapped in the jumper. The need to do so seemed odd even to him. After all, she had not really been there, but his hallucination had captured her so perfectly that he couldn't seriously consider not thanking her.

Beyond that all too brief moment as a reasonable adult, he'd settled into his assigned role of making Sam look brilliant and gracious by comparison and hoped her luck would once again get them through this. Except the first bomb didn't work and now they needed to increase the yield of the next nuke and he knew a lot more about setting up that sort of thing than she did.

Caught in the mindset of sitting back and watching the grownups play, he couldn't make the shift fast enough when she proposed something asininely stupid. Of course, she'd done that before and turned out to be absolutely right, so he argued his point while she made the usual 'about to ignore everything he said and go ahead with her plan' noises, then something he hadn't expected happened.

"You know Sam, this is not the Rodney McKay I heard stories about," Mitchell said, pushing passed him to walk with Sam.

Stories? About him? He'd gotten the business-as-usual physical brush off, but instead of moving on and leaving him standing there, Mitchell was actually saying something to keep him in the conversation. What was that all about?

"I know," Sam agreed sounding all disappointed and damnit they were playing him and he was so going to have to fall for it because he _had_ to know why they hadn't left him standing in the dust.

He practically leaped after them and demanded, "What stories? What have you heard?"

"Well," Mitchell answered, "for starters that you didn't know the meaning of the word 'impossible.'"

Which was ludicrous because of course he knew the definition of that word and just about any other word in the English language, but Mitchell cut him off before he could register his protest at such a patently idiotic statement.

"And that under the threat of impending death you can work absolute miracles."

Damnit, John. "I suppose Sheppard told you that."

"Yes, he did."

"And it's all true, but I'm not under the threat of impending death and I don't have-"

Mitchell whirled around brandishing the Lemon of Doom with enough hostility in his manner that it made Rodney back up a few steps.

"Not yet," Mitchell threatened him. "Keep it up."

Hostility aside, Rodney almost laughed at him. Here was a grown man and a bad-assed colonel besides threatening him with death via plastic fruit.

Plastic fruit John had given him. John who loved him, who trusted him despite a few dire mistakes to point out the folly of such trust, and who honestly believed he could pull off a miracle on demand. And damnit, he was going to try. "Well, I'll see what I can come up with."

He hurried off. Within minutes he had to track them down. He had the answer. The stupid hunk of plastic had done its job and let him do his. John was never going to let him hear the end of this.

*

An hour later they all stood on the bridge awestruck by the magnitude of their victory. They'd blown up a Hive ship, an Ori cruiser and destroyed the ability of the Ori to ever use the supergate again. Amazing. Even more amazingly, they'd done it by using Rodney's plan, not Sam's. Maybe in the Pegasus galaxy, Sam was the comic relief.

He considered the idea for a moment, then rejected it. No, not with those cheekbones. His galaxy, her team – they'd truly worked together for once instead of bumping heads until the last bitter second. And hey, her team, so let her shine. "Huh, well, guess it's time for a nap," he announced and headed off to get started on repairing any damage caused by the Wraith attack. 

Fixing things and snapping at incompetents kept Rodney amused until the captain's voice informed everyone they'd be arriving at Atlantis within thirty minutes. His stomach took the opportunity to remind him the hastily grabbed sandwich had been more than six hours ago. He guessed he could leave the minions to their work and get something to eat. And coffee. Lots of wonderful, life-giving coffee.

He was on his third cup when Sam and Mitchell entered the mess. He'd had more than enough of their company, but he really wasn't in the mood to argue about rules against taking food or beverages into the hallways. He settled on gulping the last of his coffee so he was getting up to leave as they finished getting their trays.

No awkward 'shall we suffer and sit with him or enjoy a few moments peace and ignore his presence' moments for him, thank you very much. He'd almost reached the door when he remembered something important. Resigned to one last encounter, he walked over to them. "Col. Mitchell, I believe you have something of John's," he said holding out his hand.

Mitchell blinked. "Excuse me?"

He'd either forgotten about the thing or couldn't believe Rodney would want to touch it. Rodney didn't care which. "The lemon. Give it to me."

Sam stared at him, like she was waiting for the punch line. "McKay?"

He rolled his eyes and impatiently snapped his outstretched fingers.

Mitchell handed it to him, looking like he was expecting Rodney to pass out at any moment. "Sheppard said –"

"I was mortally allergic to citrus. Yes, I heard." Rodney could have told them that it was more of a food sensitivity than an allergy, but he'd gotten tired of trying to explain things with zest in them made him ill, then being ignored, so he called it an allergy which made waiters and cooks everywhere think 'lawsuit' and suddenly people were a lot more helpful about finding out if the stuff was in something or even making up a special order that didn't contain it. He could have told him how the first time he'd gotten a dose of a citrus-like oil in the Pegasus galaxy he'd spent the better part of an evening feeling nauseous and feverish, but John had kept him company and even rubbed his back when the inevitable happened and he'd thrown up, and somehow that was the beginning of their romance so despite hating lemons, Rodney was curiously fond of them as well and John had gotten the Lemon of Doom for an anniversary gag gift. He could even have told him the stupid thing had become somewhat of a good luck charm and the team never went off world without one of them bringing it along. But Rodney had _had_ it with Mitchell's attitude so he gave him his best 'could you get any dumber' glare and said, "I believe one normally has a reaction from ingesting the oil in the peel, not from looking at it."

"Rodney –" Sam started to say something, but hey, he'd pretty much had it with her, too. 

"Done talking now," he announced and got the hell away from both of them. Elizabeth wouldn't have approved of his lack of diplomacy, and, yes, Rodney _got_ that they were worn down from fighting a nearly unstoppable enemy out to convert or kill them, but at least the Ori weren't out to eat them, so cry him a river and get over it already. In the meantime, Rodney was going back to where he was often insulted, but he also had friends who cared about him and a man who loved him enough to buy him a stupid plastic lemon. Yeah, enough with the nonsense, Rodney was going home.

*

John knew things had gone well the moment Rodney, Carter and Mitchell materialized. The _Odyssey_ had reported in about the utter triumph of the mission as soon as it had cleared the black hole's communication interference, but it hadn't given John a clue as to Rodney's probable mindset. One look at the smug look on Rodney's face told the key part of the tale – however they'd pulled it off, Rodney had been an important element.

He grinned, stepped forward and caught Rodney into a big hug, then gave him a kiss. Nothing that lasted long enough to be in poor taste, but a clear congratulations and hands off, Carter, he's mine!

Rodney drew back and gave him a fond smile, then he glanced at a stunned Carter and Mitchell. "I believe I did mention that we were close," he said and if John knew his Rodney, and he did, Mitchell had indeed pulled the lemon on him and, once the smoke had cleared, Rodney had let him know he'd made an ass out of himself. He didn't get a chance to find out anything more until they fell into bed several hours later.

"And so he brandishes it like it was a vial of nitroglycerine and gives me this terse, vague threat," Rodney laughed. "Then the idiot actually thinks the thought of death by lemon scared me so much that I ran off to solve the problem to save myself from his wrath."

Threat? John was far from amused. He rose up on one elbow and stared down at Rodney's shadowed face. "That bastard threatened you?"

Even in the darkened room John could see Rodney's eyes roll. "Why yes, the nice colonel did exactly what you wanted, Mr. 'Rodney pulls off miracles every time he's faced with impending death.'"

John thought hard about pouting, but Rodney probably wouldn't be able to see that, so he settled on half-whining, "But you do!"

"Idiot," Rodney sighed, but gave him a hug so that was okay. "Ever notice that you're around and about to share my dire fate when I pull off those miracles?"

"But-"

"I panic when I'm alone and make bad decisions. Like wasting almost all of my power trying to get off the bottom of the sea on my own."

John shivered at the reminder at how close Rodney had come to dying alone in a cold, dark jumper.

Rodney shifted and rolled John underneath him, wrapping John in a warm blanket of Rodney and chasing the cold away. "I told the hallucination of Sam that we made a good team, but the real Sam reminded me that most of the time we aren't. The truth is that while I find her intellect stimulating and enjoy experiencing it, I'm not a great person around her."

"I always like who you are." Okay, so it was a lie, but damnit, he _did_ appreciate Rodney!

Of course Rodney couldn't let it go. "No you don't, but you're good for me, John. You make me want to be the best person I'm capable of being. It's one of the reasons I love you."

Inside John began to do a little happy dance. Rodney loved him best! Rodney loved him best! Rodney loved him best!

Rodney laughed and so um maybe he'd sort of said that out loud, but-

A deep, long kiss silenced him, then Rodney drew back and said, "I can't love you best, John, because you're the only one I've ever loved."

Something hot and wonderful burst through John's chest. He managed to squeak out a, "Me, too," then decided words were inadequate and set about showing Rodney how very much he loved him.

*

Late the next day John and Rodney joined Elizabeth in the gate room to watch SG1's departure. Dr. Jackson and Vala arrived first and looked none the worse the wear for their stay on Atlantis. Mitchell and Carter were another story entirely. They both limped into the staging area, moving with the stiff, gracelessness of someone whose entire body ached.

"What did you do to them?" Rodney whispered.

"Nothing," John answered, but he supposed the satisfied smirk on his face ruined his credibility.

"John."

"Okay, so I might have used my clout as military commander to insist they spar with Ronon and Telya. And I might have pointed out to our teammates that their partners-of-the-day had been mean to you, but –"

"Mean to me? What am I, six?"

"Nope, you're the head scientist of Atlantis and a member of SGA-1 and they will not disrespect that again," he answered fiercely. Then he smiled. "That's my job."

Rodney chuckled, then moved forward to exchange the farewell pleasantries, while John slid over to a spot where he could see everyone's faces.

"Sam, it was good to see you again," Rodney said.

She smiled. "You, too, Rodney. And thanks. Your idea saved the day."

He blinked in surprise, but before he could say anything Mitchell cut in, "Dr. McKay, I've had it brought to my attention that I've been an ass to you, and I'm sorry. You really came through for us and we appreciate it." Ah, the tutorial effects of time alone with pissed-off warriors. "I hope next time we meet we can start over," Mitchell finished and offered Rodney his hand.

"Ah, certainly, Colonel," Rodney said, shaking his hand.

He opened his mouth to say something that would probably ruin the moment, and John stepped into the breach, "Well, folks, it's been fun. Let's all plan to get together again next year." Have a good trip and don't let the stargate hit you in the ass on your way out.

Elizabeth frowned at him, but everyone was pretty much done with this party, so within minutes the wormhole was established and SG1 returned to Earth.

The riff-raff taken care of, John slung his arm around Rodney's shoulders. "What's say we meet Teyla and Ronon for dinner in the mess? I've got the feeling they might have a few good stories to tell us."

Rodney laughed and they headed out into the hallway. Then all of a sudden John remembered. He stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh, no, I forgot to get it back!" he all but wailed. And what were the odds Mitchell would return it now? He took a couple of steps back toward the control room, his feet ahead of any plan his mind could come up with.

"John."

He turned to see a smiling Rodney tossing a hunk of yellow from one hand to the other. "Catch," he said then lobbed it to John.

John grinned. He'd always known Rodney liked the thing despite all his complaining. He held it up in front of him and announced, "You will do what I say from now on, Dr. McKay, or face the wrath of the Lemon of Doom!"

Rodney's eyes widened in terror, then he took off down the hall in panicked-flight.

Laughing, faux-lemon in hand, John jogged after him.

End

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a family lousy with docs and so, while I absolutely adore many Rodney Will Die If He Even Sees a Lemon stories, I can't write one. I was told that the odds are poor for Rodney to be allergic to anything but the oil in the peel – he can probably even drink orange juice, lemonade etc. without any ill effects. IOW, it's dishes with ZEST in them that he has to worry about, not the juice or pulp of lemons, limes, etc. Even then, he probably would have to INGEST the oil/peel, so holding a lemon etc. wouldn't be much of a problem. 
> 
> Anything else is rare with dire extremes being almost non-existent and Rodney isn't the sort of character to forget to mention that "Oh, yes, not only am I allergic, but my allergy is extremely rare making me unique among men even in my health problems."
> 
> More importantly nothing I've seen about John indicates he would let Rodney within miles of anything that even looks like a lemon if it so much as gave him a rash. Also, since John gave Mitchell the lemon but did NOT give instructions on what to do should something unexpected happen, I'm going a step further and assuming that Rodney has exaggerated his reaction to citrus and it is not and never has been a life-threatening situation. Not that this is a bad thing – citrus probably makes him ill (as fresh garlic does me) and he long ago got tired of the long explanation that no one takes quite seriously while "I'm allergic" commands attention. And, in the interest of accuracy, I have written what I know and used my reaction to the oil in fresh garlic as a template for Rodney's reaction to citrus oil.


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